%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  My experiences of diagnosis/treatment of cancer |
| A day by day journey of my walk down Cancer Road. |
| The 2+ hour ride to the hospital in Marshfield, WI was much like a pleasant ride on any sunny day...until we exited the freeway and I could visually see the huge hospital just off to the left of me. I said very little, trying to just cope with the knowledge that we had arrived at what would be my new "home" for the next month. Jason, Char and the little ones had arrived just behind us, and together we all walked through the front door and were escorted to an office marked "Admissions." While every fiber of my inner being was screaming "NO!", I remained silent and sullen. Bill answered all the typical admitting questions that were asked, and then we were off to my room. Patients like me, severely at risk because of an extreme lack of oxygen and completely lacking in the blood cells which fight infection, were kept in one of the four sterile 12 x 12 rooms. I quickly surveyed my room: bathroom, night stand, hospital bed, rolling table for meals, a few chairs for visitors and, directly facing my bed...a wall-mounted television. Thankfully, there was a huge picture window on the far wall, allowing me to feel less closed in than I already did. I couldn't help but note, however, that the view from the big window was less than heartening...it was the cemetery! |
| Bright and early, I awoke to the relief of the nurse taking out my IV. Seemingly within minutes, Bill and Jason arrived, as did Dr. Ann's husband and partner, Dr. John. I had never felt comfortable talking to him, so I just quipped, "Well, two units of blood should have done me some good." "You'll be needing a whole lot more than that!" he shot back as he walked over to confer with my husband. My ears took special note when I heard the word "oncologist" slip through his lips.It was only then that Dr. John finally turned to face me. "OK, so I'll order an ambulance and we'll get you down to the hospital in Marshfield." Nearly a three hour trip from home, I strongly voiced my concern. "No way!" "You want more tests, fine, but I will get down there by car...with my husband. There is no way I'm going by ambulance." In my mind's eye, I could just picture an ambulance rushing down the highway, followed by my worried husband in one car, and my son and his family in another car. Holding my ground, I looked beyond the doctor and spoke to Bill. "I either ride with you or I'm not going, period!" And so it was! |
| By noon I was checked into the local hospital in Minocqua, WI. I had worked as a CNA in that hospital for 7 years when my son was in his teens. The room I was led into was one of the large, two-bed rooms that had been converted to one large room. It was dark, lonely and the bed was anything but comfortable. I was there mainly to get two units of blood. No one had specifically told me I would not be going home the next day so I decided to grin and bear it. A phlebotomist came in to insert an IV for the first blood transfusion. While the pain was endurable, my heart sunk when I heard her say, "Damn, almost had it when the vein blew!" Moving over to my other hand, she managed to get an IV going in the main vein on top of that hand. Since I had not eaten anything all day, someone brought me a tasteless, turkey sandwich from the snack machine along with a Coke. I ate most of it, but only out of a feeling of duty to my family. I knew they were so worried about me. I slept poorly and was up to the bathroom at least six times, thanks to Mr. Coca Cola...each time dragging my IV pole along. I was so exhausted by morning that I was surprised to find I was still one feisty gal, as the doctor was soon to learn. |
| I should have known I was sick, if for no other reason than I was looking forward to my doctor appointment, set for Thursday, Aug. 7. I tired so easily and my stamina was zilch. Dr. Ann wasted no time in ordering blood tests. Thirty minutes later, after obtaining the results, she hustled me into her office. "Judy, there's something seriously wrong here. Your numbers are so bad I'm surprised you're even able to walk!" Definitely not what I wanted to hear. The panic in her voice caused me to panic. She briefly went over my blood test numbers. "Your red blood count, which should be a healthy 12-14 is only a 4! Your white blood cells, the ones that fight infection, are virtually zero; and your platelettes, whose job it is to make your blood clot when you cut yourself, are dangerously low. With her final words..."you need to be hospitalized right now!" the fear descended. Reluctantly, I sat in the clinic lobby, waiting for my husband, Bill, to take me to the local hospital. |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
Take Care Marcia